A Cry For Help
Sergeant Boris Bokorov
Somewhere in a Vostroyan lower hive, Boris Bokorov’s life is about to change. Boris is a middle level gangster who runs a rather efficient protection racket, mostly due to the shocking revelation it is difficult to earn money when your legs are broken so one should be hesitant to break the legs of those they are trying to wring for money. Still, sometimes examples have to be made. If someone doesn’t fear you they are paying you a disrespect that must be answered. Today’s example is a sleazy man by the name of Ivan. Ivan runs a scrapyard where things and people have a tendency of appearing. Ivan is also a miser who is holding out on Boris again. Things are about to get very heated.
Standing behind Boris is a lowly adept of the Adeptus Mechanicus. The adept cares little for the blatant criminality in front of him, she is here to retrieve a part that has “appeared” here. She was not prepared for what she saw next. Boris is at the end of his patience and draws his personal laspistol. The adept shrieks. Boris had taken to customising his weapon, a vain display of wealth and status. To the adept these “modifications” were the gravest blasphemies! She could hear the machine spirit crying out to be saved. With a screech of tech lingua, she struck. Boris had only a moment of utter bewilderment before 1 million volts of electricity coursed through him. When he came to, he was in chains and still smoking. The adept had taken to lecturing his unconscious body and had not stopped when Boris awoke.
Eventually Boris was transferred off world to some God-Emperor forsaken penal colony. There he was posed with a choice, endure backbreaking labour until his eventual demise or volunteer for the Penal Legion Regiment and fight for a pardon.
A chance at freedom that allowed him to kill filthy heretics and steal military grade equipment?
Sergeant Boris Bokorov, reporting for duty.